Fighting Underneath This Appearance
by Kendra Iscariette
Summary: Umbrella messed with more than just Alice's humanity. POV, Movie-verse with a certain AU twist, set during RE: Extinction. FUTA. Alice/Claire One-Shot.


**I said to myself, "Why the hell not?" Then I wrote this. **

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Playing God, deserves a special place in Hell.

The scientists at the mega corporation Umbrella, although brilliant with their innovations to mankind, might have a sick sense of humour.

Through their god awful machinations, I am no longer just a frail human. I am something worse. And my body no longer belongs to just me.

Immediately after the... 'incident' in the Arklay mountains, they experimented on Matt, the only other survivor besides myself.

Matt was forcibly entered into the Nemesis Program after his confrontation and infection with, what's called a Licker. A skinless quadruped experiment whose weaponized tongue gives it, its namesake.

Matt... his body had been completely transformed by the T-virus, one of Umbrella's creations. He was almost the perfect solider in Umbrella's eyes. The virus thickened his skin and his new body transformed into twice the size of his human body. He felt no pain and offered no mercy. The virus ate away at his vocal cords, the skin over his mouth, and his eye lids-the virus ruined all of his human features.

And like me, he lost his memories.

He was a walking puppet. Controlled remotely by a computer, whose controller pitted us against each other, after my first escape, to see which is the stronger. In the end, Matt broke free of the mind control and he was able to find peace. Because of me, his nightmare is over.

The nightmare didn't end for me, unfortunately.

The T-virus running rampant inside my body, ensures I am something else. A powerful tool, they thought they could control. A living and breathing weapon they thought they could rule the world with. And something else... The megalomaniacal perversion they decided to permanently 'equip' me with.

They gave me the 'ability' to breed with both males and females of the human race.

So I am no longer just female. I am both. I guess I am considered a hermaphrodite. But I'd rather call myself like it is.

I am a monster.

The last time the scientists experimented on me, they somehow gave me... the member of the opposite sex. I don't know how they did it, nor was it ever explained. My memories don't help much. But from what I do remember, it was mostly blinding lights, muffled voices and a very cold metal slab that I was forced to lay on via straps and harnesses. I do remember the painful pinching of the straps through my semi consciousness. The scientists, with their muffled voices, never let me get much comfort.

Me and a handful of random strangers who banded together during the initial viral outbreak that decimated Raccoon city and the subsequent bombing to eradicate the virus. Umbrella's answer to the problem? Bomb the whole damn city.

I didn't technically survive the bombing.

My dead body was left behind, and the corporation got their goddamn hands on me again.

But somehow, I'm alive and the scientists used their disgusting hands to manipulate my natural body. They continued their sick experiments on me, that's when they gave me 'him.'

Then I recall while floating through a haze, I heard voices that I recognized. The beautiful sounds floated through my blank mind reminding me of sweet music that I use to love, before my world went to Hell. The voices were of the strangers; Jill, Carlos and L.J.

I don't know how they rescued me from the lab but it was before the truth behind my new equipment was revealed to me. If the scientists were ever going to tell me, I'll never know. But knowing Umbrella, my new sexual organ was just another means to an end. I guess they wanted to build an army of super soldiers consisting of my progeny.

Well, Umbrella was never given that chance.

Several years pass and I wander the endless desert of America. That's all that's left of the United States. It seems the world died along with most of humanity. My motorcycle and my weapons are the only things I cherish. In the ubiquitous loneliness, they are what I would label, my only friends. They do not judge me and they'll never leave me of their own accord when they find out the truth about my body.

It's lonely, yes. But everyone is safer when I keep to my self-imposed exile. I won't let Umbrella use me on the last remaining survivors of their damned Apocalypse.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, I do find myself craving a lover's arms wrapped tightly around me. Snuggling against a deliciously warm body next to me, to help fend off the chill at night in the cold desert. And unfortunately, when such thoughts and cravings plague my mind, my extra down below will inevitably wake up and demand attention. To which, I would never give. It, down there, is undeserving of such lavish attention as it is unwelcome.

Time passes as time will. I tried to help those who seek it. Small pockets of humanity who are always appreciative of me at first, whenever I save them from the roaming always hungry undead. But as always the case, my loneliness reveals itself and I come across humans that I wish to 'interact' with. That's when I take my leave. In the dead of night, I get on my bike and never look back. The humans are better off without a monster masquerading around in their midst.

After the days begin to blur together, I haven't seen any undead with which to clench my thirst with their death. Nor have I come across any radio transmissions of those who seek help or offer shelter. I often wonder if I am to be the last.

I don't want to be the last person to walk this dead Earth.

The loneliness itself, is a bitch who's constantly snapping at my heals. Many nights I find comfort staring at any of my guns, and I imagine pulling the trigger next to my cranium, perhaps behind the ear. I've heard that's where it hurts the least. But I don't deserve such mercy. I wonder where the bullet's entry would hurt the most. For that would be a fitting punishment in itself. Nothing less that than I actually deserve.

One particularly lonely morning, I wake up to having levitating my motorcycle in my sleep, and immediately crash back down to earth, shattering upon my awakening. One of the negative side effects of my experimentations, yes I have telekinesis but its uncontrollable in my sleep. Now, I have to trudge through the incinerating desert on foot.

Fuck.

Hopefully, I am not too far where the nearest town or city is so I can find another mode of transport.

I hope my morning isn't any indication of how my day is going to be.

It's still sometime early in the day, when I notice a flock of birds in the sky. It's unusual because of I havent seen a flock that size since before the apocalypse. The way they circle, like vultures flying over carrion, gives me a bad feeling. I don't really care to check it out, but I guess I got nothing better to do.

So I begrudgingly start walking in that direction...

* * *

Something unfamiliar inside me, pulled strings like a marionette, to save a convoy under seige from the flock of, turns out, INFECTED crows.

I'm not sure what it was. Maybe it was seeing a familiar face after all these years, during all the chaos. Maybe, because I witnessed the innocuous women and children fleeing for their lives.

I don't really know.

But for my efforts in using my abilities to burn the plague of flying undead, I passed out just as that familiar face walked up to me. But I can't recall who it is. The darkness consumed me, utterly.

I woke up to a sprightly young blonde teenager who somehow bears the name of a shopping center. I shouldn't judge, for I am someone's "project." My official title is Project Alice. So this young woman, who is proud of her silly name, may she forever overcome the horrible trials this world will constantly throw at her. She instantly earned my respect.

Turns out, the familiar face was Carlos. The old friend from right before the beginning of the end. Raccoon City, where it all began. It is good to see him. My heart swells that he is still alive. He is thinner and grays strands pepper his short black hair. I notice wrinkles that line around his eyes, also. I imagine the stress of living constantly in fear of being chewed on, will have aging I still see he wears his old uniform. The Umbrella tactical vest but the infernal logo is not present. I imagine it was ripped off, long ago. In the end, he made the right choice. He wouldn't be another puppet to be used and abused by the corporation.

After a heartwarming catch up with him and LJ, they introduced me to the leader of their Convoy. A mid twenties, petite fiery red-haired woman. I was surely surprised but I wouldn't openly reveal my surprise to her. I have a feeling that this leader is far more than appearances could ever allow.

When she meets me face to face, she reaches to shake my hand. The token gesture is not lost on me and I indulge in that tradition as it will likely become obsolete along with chivalry and other such manners and etiquettes. But she surprises once again with her firm handshake. I think I admire her civility. Our handshake was brief but my permanent tag-along between my legs decided to voice his opinion. Apparently, he likes the redhead, for he twitched when our hands grasped. I don't necessarily disagree with him. He may be unwanted in this forced partnership, but I, unfortunately, agree that he has decent taste in women.

After a very brief conversation with Claire, the leader, I find that she is wise beyond her years. I wonder if she was this way before the apocalypse or surviving afterwards turned her into this indomitable savior of the few humans remaining. She is a rarity, someone worth following. Maybe I might stick around for a little. She is intriguing and that's very welcome from the monotony of my exile. Plus, she isn't afraid of me and what I can do. I know she saw my manipulation of the fire that saved Carlos and destroyed the undead crows. So she obviously accepts me, for which I am grateful. There's another twitch at my crotch, and I guess he, from down below, agrees with my thoughts. I don't think I am going crazy but its starting to seem like he has a mind of his own.

Claire is also a fair leader to her convoy. She treats everyone with respect and when it comes to responsibility, everyone shares the heavy burden of living like nomads. Herself included. I watch her work along aside everyone, helping with the daily chores. This young woman is an enigma to me. She leads a group of men, woman and children without any rivalries or challenges to her leadership. I don't know what qualities she possesses that everyone follows her willingly and without question.

She certainly intrigues me.

Of course, I am always given a wide berth when it comes to the rest of the other humans in the convoy. They are afraid of me. And I am not going to do anything that might lessen their fear of me. They should be afraid. They don't know what truly has entered into their midst.

But this, Claire...

I confess I want to... find out what makes her tick.

Of course, I'll have to do that from a distance. Don't want any chance incidents where she could learn the truth of my hidden shame, of the bastard hanging between my legs.

-The End- ...for now...

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**Gratuitous amounts of gratitude go out to YahxKiKi and FollowThatConvoy. Thank you so much for the beta-ing and support. I really needed that.**

**Tell me honestly what you think? I know people are gonna think I am crazy for writing something like this... but like I said, earlier. Why the hell not? And I have a sequel halfway written, but who knows if I'll ever finish it. **

**I'll say this, I do wanna explore potential consequences, of living during Extinction, without any condom in the world... *gasp* I'm not sick in the head, just extremely imaginative. Yea, lets go with "imaginative."**

**Thanks for reading. :)**


End file.
